


My Diabolical Vendetta

by RumCove



Series: My Hypocritical Hippocrates [3]
Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumCove/pseuds/RumCove
Summary: After Turk finding out about JD and Doctor Cox's relationship - which went terribly - everyone's trying to deal with the aftermath.JD interprets 'dealing with' as being miserable and ignoring the issue where possible.Perry interprets it in... a very Perry way.Fluffy angsty floof ensues.
Relationships: Perry Cox/John "JD" Dorian
Series: My Hypocritical Hippocrates [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118183
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	My Diabolical Vendetta

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all.
> 
> I know this has taken longer than expected. The honest reason for this is that I've been tied up with very dull things that meant it was difficult to write for a while. Unless anyone hugely wants to read a fic where Perry builds IKEA furniture and JD tries to sort out utility bills etc. then I think everyone will be glad I took a break for a bit. On the plus side, I'm all sorted now and so have managed this one! I've also got a chunk into the planning for a MUT sequel :)
> 
> Unsurprisingly, this one starts out quite bleak, but gets into fluff, snarky conversations and sexy times pretty quickly. I hope you enjoy :)

My Diabolical Vendetta

**By RumCove**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own my OCs.

_Facere bonum et vitare malum (classical latin: do good and avoid evil)_

_Modern interpretation: the third medical principle of beneficence._

I can’t believe this.

I _can’t_ believe this.

I mean, what are the chances? What are the chances that my best friend just _happens_ to book into the same remote getaway location that I’m visiting with my… my whatever? (My what? My _boyfriend_? Is he my boyfriend? I can’t say ‘my boss’, that’s just _weird_.)

I can hear my _whatever_ trailing behind me, apparently aware that trying to get me to talk right now isn’t going to go great.

And then what are the chances that we run into one another at the breakfast hall? And then _why the hell_ did I just admit that… that…

Oh God, I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t deny it when he was stood right there next to me. That’d be denying him too and I don’t _want_ to deny him.

I don’t know if he’s pleased about my not denying him or not. He punched Turk and he was definitely pissed off about that whole thing, but I don’t really know if that’s because Turk was being kinda homophobic ( _kinda homophobic? That’s like saying that Ted is ‘kinda sad’_ ) or because he was pissed by the whole thing. Hell, it could have been because I was finally proved right about what I’d said would happen when Turk found out I like guys, while he’s been saying Turk’d be fine with it.

I’m running out of room to angrily stalk, since I’ve somehow managed to beeline back to the Porsche. Which is stupid, because our stuff’s still in our room and now I’m going to have to talk to him and _oh God, I don’t want to talk about this_.

I stop and stare at the car, hearing him halt behind me. I try to think of something to say.

“Newbie…”

I shake my head, trying to swallow down the annoying lump in my throat. I can see his hand hovering above my shoulder out the corner of my eye, obviously not sure whether touching me will result in my having another sobbing meltdown. Oh God. I would really appreciate it if I could manage a month without him seeing me have an embarrassing crying fit.

“What are the chances of that happening?”

His hand continues to hover hesitantly. “What?”

“What are the chances of that shit happening? Turk and Carla being at _the same place_ as us? Running into one another?”

“Kinda high, Newb. Considering this place sent the entire hospital a discount code. And since you and Gandhi presumably both have the same drive to eat the entire breakfast buffet at any place you stay.”

“It’s better value for money that way.”

My lame attempt at humor seems to reassure him that touching me won’t result in hysterics again, since I feel his hand heavily fall onto my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, JD.”

Oh shit, now I want to cry again. He can’t ‘JD’ at me when I’m feeling emotionally raw, it’s not good for me. I can’t think what to do and so just reach up and place my hand over his.

“You were wrong.”

I’m trying to sound light-hearted, but it comes across as slightly accusatory.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Because ‘Gandhi’ll be fine, Gandhi’s ridiculously overblown affection for you-‘”

“Yeah, I know Newb.”

I glance back at him. He’s looking like shit. I must look like shit too, since he flinches at the sight of me. That’s not exactly encouraging. I can’t even have a meltdown in an attractive way. In movies people having emotional breakdowns all look gorgeous, their inner torment demonstrated by the quiver of a lip or a single tear sliding down their cheek. I probably look red and miserable. And likely covered in drool and bogies or something.

Ew.

Apparently I’m not so mucusy that touching me is utterly repulsive, since he’s just dragged me into a hug. I’m slightly surprised by this, since he generally only hugs me when we’ve had sex, since that’s pretty much the only time he seems to think physical displays of affection are appropriate. I try to bury my face under his chin, but can’t get the angle right.

“You’re too tall for that.”

“I noticed.”

I settle for pressing my face into his neck and stare at it blankly. He has a nice neck. Not like my scrawny-ass one.

He’s stroking my back gently and I sigh softly.

“Why don’t you get in the Porsche? I’ll go pick up our shit and check out.”

I just kind of want to stay like this, but it’s not really an option. Despite this, I wrap my arms over his shoulders and lean against him. He continues to stroke my back soothingly.

“I know, sweetheart. Just let me deal with this and we can get outta here.”

He’s too good for me, I don’t know why the hell he’s dealing with all this shit.

\- - - - -

I’ve left Newbie sat in abject misery in the Porsche. I even said he could change the radio if he wanted, which resulted in a slight quirk of his lips, but that was about it.

Asshole. Bastard Gandhi _asshole_.

I shift, distributing the weight across my shoulders of the two bags I’ve picked up from our room. It is so _so_ tempting to go find that piece of shit and really lay into him. I bet Carla’d even _help_ , I bet she’d tell me where he was, she was clearly horrified by the revolting crap he was saying.

But it’d take time and I have a miserable Newbie sat waiting for me. Unfortunately, him needing me is outweighing the murderous desire for vengeance in the weird mental emotional scale that exists in my head and seems to dictate how I’m allowed to react.

Which is weird in itself, since that scale usually _always_ tips in favor of violence. Or at least passive aggressive tormenting if violence isn’t an option.

With a growl I turn towards the reception to check out and not hunt that asshole down.

What’s this little bastard doing to me?

\- - - - -

There’s an awkward silence emanating from the driver side of the Porsche. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but it’s almost palpable now. I’m normally the awkward one, not _him_.

“What is it?” I asked tiredly.

“Wellllll… just _how_ exactly did bald and homophobic _nahwt_ realize that you were bi?”

“I told you this. I told you I didn’t tell anyone.”

“But you were at college together.”

“Yeah, and… well, when I hooked up with guys I just… made sure he didn’t find out…” It’s probably better not to tell him that I hooked up with some of Turk’s football buddies. And then some of them blackmailed me to keep it quiet. He’s already at cardiac-threatening levels of stress.

He gives me a suspicious look and I think he knows I’m keeping something back on that. I shrug at him.

“And… no offence Newbie, but it’s _obvious_ that you’re into guys.”

I frown at him. “No, it’s not.”

“Uh… yeah, Newb, it really is. I knew from the-“

“Oh, bullshit. If you did then why didn’t you make a move?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not _that_ irresistible, Patricia. And I was… _am_ … your superior.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“I mean your superior at work, you little bastard. But yeah, also just generally your superior.”

“Whatever. Anyway, Turk really didn’t know, alright? Until… like, just now. And I _said_ he wasn’t comfortable with it. And… he doesn’t really like you all that much either, which can’t have helped.”

“Are you actually _defending_ him right now, Newbie? After what he said?”

“No… just… it’s not really that surprising. I probably should have picked up from him ignoring me when I was trying to tell him about us, I think he might have deliberately misunderstood me.”

Turk _always_ gets me. I’ve got a horrible suspicion that he knew – either consciously or sub-consciously – and was intentionally misunderstanding. To pretend it wasn’t true.

I thought only I did that shit, but apparently not.

I abruptly think of something and feel sick. “D’you think he’s going to tell people?”

He gives me a tired look. “Does it make much difference?”

“You _know_ it does.”

“Just you seem to be getting over all that shit and-“

“Yeah, I’m getting over it, I’m not _over_ it. If… _when_ we tell people I want it to be on our terms, not… not from _that_.”

He’s focused back on the road again. “Carla said she would drop some of your stuff off later, we’ll talk to her about it then. You know who… uh, Carla’ll keep him in line.”

I frown. I’m pretty certain he just changed track from ‘you know who wears the pants in _that_ relationship’ since he realized how must we look to people.

Great, so I’m apparently pants-less now…

\- - - - -

When the doorbell rings at my apartment Newbie gives me a nervous glance. He’s sat on the couch cross-legged, looking anxious. I roll my eyes at him.

“I’ll get it then, shall I Jodie?”

“It’s your apartment.”

I pull a face at him and go answer the door. Carla’s stood there with a holdall. There’s a shocked, lost expression on her face, horribly similar to how Newbie looked earlier when he finally turned around to look at me. On her it’s just a bit jarring, on him it was nearly physically painful to see.

“Hey.”

She looks scared now, I think some of my feelings must have just shown. I lift my eyebrows.

“Hey Carla. Thanks for bringing that, come in.”

“Is… is JD okay?”

I glance over at him. “He’s fine.” I look back at her and lower my voice. “I think he’s in shock, he seems okay but I think he’s… numb somehow.”

I really don’t want to think what’s going to happen when the numbness wears off. She gives me a worried look and then brushes past me.

“Hey JD, here’s your stuff.”

“Thanks Carla.”

He’s speaking weirdly flatly. She must be thinking that too, a concerned expression flitting across her face.

“He didn’t mean it, Bambi.”

Newbie snorts softly. “Sure Carla. You tell yourself that.”

Carla looks alarmed now. “Really, JD. He was just… shocked. And yeah, we both know he’s not the most _accepting_ person sometimes, but-“

Newbie’s been shaking his head throughout this and now abruptly gets up and walks out into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Carla turns and gives me the lost look again. I shrug at her.

“Told you.”

She’s looking near tears and walks back towards me, apparently planning on leaving. I catch her shoulder.

“He tells _no one_.”

She looks up at me in surprise, before a look of anger runs over her face. “Oh, right? What, you worried about your reputation if-“

“I don’t give a _shit_ about that, Carla. But Newbie’s not… ready for this to be general knowledge, alright? So Gandhi does _not_ go bitching about this to anyone.”

“ _JD’s_ the one who doesn’t want people to know?”

I narrow my eyes. “Yeah.”

“And you’re… okay with that?”

If I narrow my eyes any more they’ll basically be closed, so I just give her an angry look instead. “For the time being.”

“You’re not just going to tell everyone?”

“No.”

“Or torment him until he agrees to tell everyone?”

“No.”

“Or-“

“Look, Carla, it’s really pretty simple. It’s not anyone else’s goddamn business and I expect it to stay that way. And you’ve seen the state of Newbie, he can’t deal with anything else right now. So your damn bowling ball doesn’t get to whine to anyone about how betrayed he feels by his wife or whatever the hell bullshit excuse he’ll come up with for having a problem. And _you_ don’t damn well gossip to anyone about it either.”

“Like I would.”

I lift my eyebrows at her and she looks abashed. “Alright, maybe I would, but not when JD’s that upset.”

I release her shoulder and nod at her briefly. “How is Gandhi, anyhow?”

“His nose hurts. It might be broken.”

“Good.”

\- - - - -

Newbie’s been crying for about an hour now.

I initially stuck my head in to make some comment about girls flouncing out on their best gal pals when they were trying to make them feel better, but it died on my lips when I saw him sprawled on the bed, face-down and trying to quietly sob into his hands. I left him to it, which felt a bit heartless but I thought would be for the best – he keeps trying to choke it down around me. I thought if I let him get on with it then he’d feel better.

Also, him crying bothers me. Which is cowardly, but it’s a factor in this shit too. I don’t know how to react to it. It bothers me because of that helplessness. And it bothers me because he’s feeling bad.

And my reaction to it is to not be around it. Turns out Newbie isn’t the only one who just tries to ignore the shit he doesn’t like sometimes.

Only I’ve been sat on the couch reading for the last hour and trying determinedly to _not_ listen to the occasional louder noises of pain that’ve been choking out of him and I somehow feel worse because of it. So I’ve slunk quietly back into the bedroom and just crawled behind him on the bed and pulled him roughly up against my chest.

He makes a quiet snivelling sort of noise and presses his face into my chest.

“You’re better off without people like that in your life,” I mutter to him. Unfortunately this just results in him making a wailing noise to himself and I sigh.

“I don’t _want_ him to not be in my life…”

I resist the urge to inform him that he’s an idiot then and just pull him a bit closer to me, hoping he correctly interprets this as my trying to comfort him as opposed to trying to crush him to death. He squirms, possibly thinking I’m trying to kill him for being whiney.

“Sorry…”

I sigh again. “Newbie, don’t start apologizing to me. What the hell are you even apologizing for?”

“’m being pathetic.”

“Yeessss, but you don’t normally apologize for that. And if you start then you’ll never be able to stop.”

He hiccoughs and then hesitantly wraps his arms around me. I relax my grip on him so he can breathe more easily and then gently tangle my fingers into his hair, for once not bitching about the unpleasant sensation of the mousse. He tucks his head under my chin, apparently pleased he can do this when we’re lying down.

I think how confident he’s been over the last few days and try not to react to the sudden anger at how broken he is right now. If I do then I probably actually will crush him to death. And he was _worried_ this morning, he was _worried_ about Gandhi’s damn welfare.

“Stop being so angry, Perry.”

Ah, I was crushing him. I relax my grip again. “Can’t help it, Newb. It’s how I’m made.”

He snickers softly. “Were you drawn that way?”

“Newbie, I don’t care _how_ upset you are, I am not fulfilling any weird Jessica Rabbit fantasies you might have.”

He’s quiet and still for a while.

“Stop daydreaming about me in a red dress,” I snap at him.

“Sorry…”

\- - - - -

Perry’s apparently exhausted himself by choking down all of his anger and has fallen asleep. His anger’s probably now sat somewhere in his lower intestine. I hope it’s not carcinogenic, it’s pretty deadly when he releases it, God knows what it does when he basically ingests it.

Him being unconscious does mean I can stop hiding my face in various parts of his body and withdraw to glance up at him. He’s looking surprisingly relaxed for someone who’s just essentially had to eat their own fury because he thought it’d upset me. I’m going to have bruises from him unintentionally squashing me as it is.

He really is handsome. Despite his weird anger-consumption and JD-squishing tendencies. I softly stroke his face and watch him smile slightly in his sleep. I smile back, although suspect I look a bit ghoulish, I’ll have wrecked my face from crying. For a whole goddamn hour.

I really wish I _didn’t_ cry as much as I do. I think people think being an emotional guy is something I only view positively, but that side of it really isn’t. I don’t cry all that much, but when I do I seem to really go for it.

I’ve been absent-mindedly stroking his cheekbone as I’ve been thinking that. He snuggles closer to me and presses his cheek against my hand.

Like I’ve noted before, he’s a massive hypocrite. He can go on endlessly about how much he hates my need to cuddle and spoon and show various forms of physical affection (and, oh God, he really _does_ go on endlessly about it), but I’m pretty sure he actually likes it more than I do.

I wriggle up the bed and then softly kiss him, carding my fingers through his curls as I do so. He tilts his head up and sighs against my lips and I screw my eyes closed, trying to choke out what I want to say, just trying to damn well _say_ it. To say what I know I feel, to say what I know is so blindingly obviously true.

Nothing comes out and I sigh.

“Why the hell do you put up with this shit? You deserve better.”

I guess that _is_ what I feel and is blindingly obviously true, but hadn’t been what I’d been aiming for.

To my surprise he kisses my cheek and grunts out: “I deserve all the shit I get, Newb.”

I glance down at him. His eyes are still closed and he’s continuing to look deceptively peaceful.

“How long’ve you been awake?”

He grunts at me again, apparently not in the mood to talk. I roll onto my back and he follows me, flailing onto his side and cushioning his head on my shoulder, wrapping an arm around my waist.

Apparently he’s feeling cuddly.

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“I figured. Y’know, since you spoke.”

“Yeah.”

“You were spying on me,” I accuse him mildly.

“Don’t talk shit and I won’t need to.”

“It wasn’t shit, it’s true. I _don’t_ know why you put up with this shit. With _any_ of this, with me being so stupidly emotional, with me having trouble dealing with all of this, you _said_ that you weren’t going to-“

He sighs and abruptly rolls on top of me, pinning me down. I shut up, freezing at the combination of him staring down at me and the realization that he can see my stupid face, which is probably still all swollen and red with bloodshot eyes.

“Newbie, if you think you being overly emotional and a bit pathetic is somehow a surprise to me then you’re even more of a moron than I usually accuse you of being.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t my standard-“

“Newbie, I’m _proud_ of you.”

I blink. He’s actually looking serious. “What?”

He frowns at me. “You stood up for yourself. For…” he trails off and I’m pretty certain he was about to say ‘for us’. “…For yourself. I know that’s a big deal for you. And yeah, you’re upset about what Gandhi said. For once that _isn’t_ you being pathetic, alright? Honestly, I thought when Gandhi found out… uh, if Gandhi found out… that he’d just be surprised. Turns out you knew better and I know how much you seem to give a damn about his opinion. But you _still_ stood up for yourself. So… yeah. I’m proud of you. Don’t make me say it again, it’s embarrassing.”

I’ve flushed. “But-“

“Shut up. I knew what I was getting into with you, alright? Stop going on about it and making me regret it.”

“You regret it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Alright, _now_ you’re being pathetic. No, I don’t regret it. You know I can’t say something complimentary easily, let me bitch at you to balance it out.”

I grin and he smirks at me. “And you’ve clearly got some little kink you’ve not told me about, Newbie.”

“What?” I look at him blankly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you all my kinks. Usually in graphic detail.” He seems to like the graphic detail.

He shifts his weight and leans heavily onto his elbow to reach down and squeeze. Ah. I didn’t actually notice I had an erection, I think I was so shocked from him saying he was proud of me it essentially numbed all other physical responses.

“Do you like being pinned down, Newb?”

I grin at him unconvincingly. “It was the Jessica Rabbit fantasy.”

“Hm. I’m going to test that.”

\- - - - -

Afterwards, when he’s panting against my shoulder (and really, he needs to do more exercise, he basically didn’t do _anything_ during that session, just got held down and fucked until he was wailing that yes, okay, he did like it, it wasn’t the red dress fantasy), JD seems to remember that I was faking unconsciousness earlier when I caught him out talking crap to my apparently sleeping form whilst being endearingly affectionate.

“What were you doing earlier?”

“Hm?” I open an eye and glance over at him. He’s flushed and panting, finally no longer looking like someone recently punched him.

He drags more air into his lungs. “Earlier. When I thought you were asleep.”

“Plotting.”

He giggles and rolls his eyes at me.

Oh. Oh, how cute. He thinks I’m joking.

Gandhi’s a dead man.

\- - - - -

Stage one is pretty simple. I just go and reorganise the shift rota. _All_ of the shift rota.

Gandhi’s not having a Friday or weekend night off shift for the foreseeable future. And he’s getting those awful ones where you only have a twelve hour gap between shifts, which is _so_ not enough time to decompress but long enough to not feel like you can just work through it all.

It’s surprisingly easy, nobody questions me doing it.

Well, one person does. The insane janitor is smirking at me knowingly, leaning against a wall and not even trying to look like he’s working. He caught me and JD in the rain and I’m pretty sure knows what’s happening between us, but weirdly isn’t using it in his arsenal for persecuting Newbie. Maybe he views sexuality as out of bounds or it’s because he overheard the shit Newbie went through when he was younger.

He doesn’t seem to view it as enough to stop tormenting Newbie, based on how much he whines about it to me and I pretend to disbelieve him (because it’s funnier than way), but isn’t using it against him. Hell, he has an odd morality structure, but who am I to comment on that? I pretend to not believe my boyfriend because it’s funny.

Incidentally, I’ve decided Sharon’s my boyfriend now. I’ve been going with ‘lover’ up until now, but I don’t hugely like it, it’s a weird way to phrase things and feels like something from the eighteenth century, like calling him my paramour. I’ll break it to JD at some point, probably when he’s whining and being neurotic. I have to save things that shock him for those times, it’s one of the only things that shuts him up when he’s like that.

“You appear to be on a vendetta, Angry Doc.”

I lift my eyebrows. “I’m not Italian. I’m Irish.”

“What would an Irish vendetta look like?”

I shrug. “Scotch? Potatoes? Probably not a horse head.”

“Isn’t Scotch… well, Scottish?”

I shrug again. “I don’t know, it’s just a heritage thing. I’ve never even been to Ireland.” I’m not entirely sure how Irish I actually am, I think it’s something my father invented to justify getting blind drunk on St Patrick’s Day. Newbie has cheerfully told me I must have a decent percentage of Irish or Scottish in my ancestry after finding the occasional red follicle in my happy trail. Little weirdo.

“Anyway, it _is_ a vendetta, right? Against that surgeon?”

I growl softly. He looks delighted.

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Well, the brain trust and I-“

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

He goes back to leaning against the wall, still not even pretending he’s got any form of gainful employment.

Right, what’s next?

\- - - - -

“Dude, what the hell?”

I glance back at him. I hate him. I hate his stupid face. I hate his green scrubs. I hate his shiny head.

“What?”

“Are you trying to… to…?”

I roll my eyes. “Trying to _what_ , Gandhi?”

We have an audience and I like being theatrical in those circumstances. Gandhi clearly hates the attention, looking even more uncomfortable.

“Did you tell Mr Reyner to not undergo surgery?”

I lift my eyebrows. “No.”

“Then _why_ has he suddenly decided he’s not going to have his appendectomy this afternoon? After he had a consultation with you?”

“I’d never tell a patient not to have an appendectomy.” That’d be incredibly unprofessional and also make me a murderer.

Gandhi’s looking flummoxed, apparently thinking his cornering me would result in my cheerfully telling him I was causing patient deaths because I was so angry about what had happened. I turn to leave and then pause and give a fake laugh.

“I mean, if your patients are choosing other surgical consults over you then-“

“What?”

I smirk. “If your patients are moving to another surgeon then that’s on you.”

“ _To another surgeon_?”

I grin. He stares at me.

“ _Which_ other surgeon?”

I grin wider and walk off. Behind me I hear:

“Hey Turk, I’ve gotten so many new consults, I think they must all have seen my ass in these tight scrubs and-“

Then he’s suddenly at my elbow. “ _The Todd?_ ”

I glance sideways at him, not slowing my stride. “What?”

“You gave my patients to _the Todd_?”

“Gandhi, were you _nahwt_ listening? I didn’t do anything.”

“Dude, you had consultations with all of my upcoming cases this morning and suddenly they’ve _all_ moved to The Todd.”

I presume he hasn’t seen the new rota yet and isn’t aware of the sheer number of night shifts coming his way as well. “That moron’s got the best success rate out of all you scalpel jockeys, maybe the patients just heard.”

“He’s an _idiot_. He’s wearing scrubs bottoms one size too small because he thinks it shows off his junk.”

I shrug. “Just proves my point that it doesn’t take intelligence to be a good surgeon.”

“Look…” he glances around and lowers his voice. “If this is about what happened the other day then-“

I stop walking, frown and turn to him. I cross my arms and lift my eyebrows.

He doesn’t look suitably impressed. “Are you trying to intimidate me with that? That doesn’t work on me.”

“I don’t give a damn what works on you,” I say flatly. “And I don’t give a damn about what you think. If you’re having a run of bad luck then maybe that’s just karma.”

He snorts. “ _Karma_? _You_ believe in _karma_?”

I shrug again. “Maybe.” I believe in the karma I’m currently manufacturing. “Anyway Gandhi, in my long, long experience as a medical professional I’ve found that there’s swings and roundabouts. When some opportunities dry up, others present themselves.”

Gandhi looks at me blankly. “Huh?”

Doctor Wen has materialised next to us, apparently walking over whilst Gandhi was being unimpressed by my intimidation techniques.

“Christopher, I’ve got a new schedule of surgeries.”

“Doctor Wen, have you ever had all of your patients move to another surgeon?”

“No, but I also never played hip hop when I was operating. You’re in a brave new world. Anyway, since you have some time on your hands now I thought you could practice this procedure.”

He hands Gandhi the schedule and I try not to grin. I’m not sure I manage it.

“A schedule of hemorrhoidectomies?”

There’s a pause and Gandhi frowns as he reads. “All… _all of them_? How many hemorrhoids can this town have?!”

“There are some that aren’t a hemorrhoidectomy procedure. There’s a couple of sphincteroplasties on there as well.”

I would genuinely have paid money to see the expression on Gandhi’s face. He looks outraged and slightly horrified.

“I… I… Doctor Wen, this isn’t _fair_. Why have I got… got a load of surgical procedures on _assholes_?”

“Takes one to know one, Gandhi.”

He stares at us both for a moment longer and then turns on his heel. We watch Gandhi flounce off angrily. Wen gives me a side glance.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re doing this to him?”

“You got a problem?”

“No… he’s gotten very cocky recently. Humility will be a good lesson for him.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t go all Mr Miyagi on me. The racial overtones make me uncomfortable and as a white guy I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Ah… and a white guy’s discomfort means I shouldn’t express myself.”

I pull a face at him and he grins. “No, seriously though… he must have done something pretty bad for you to be doing this.”

I shrug, feeling awkward. “He… may have said something that… upset someone that… look, forget it alright? He’s an asshole, he deserves all those _other_ assholes to deal with.”

Wen’s grin suddenly widens. “You and that dorky, lanky one, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I _knew_ you liked him and you kept saying-“

“Alright, shut up.”

“I’m so _glad_ you got it together with him, I was _so_ tired of hearing you complain about him endlessly and wanting to yell to just get a room-“

“Alright Phillip, _shut the hell up_.”

\- - - - -

I’ve crowned my achievements off by getting Carla to give me real time updates of when and where he is at all times. I keep appearing and grinning at him disconcertingly at odd times. I’ve managed to time it a few times when something genuinely unpleasant has just happened – such as him walking into the door when it won’t open properly in front of a load of residents he was trying to impress with his dancing – and I’m hoping my smirk is starting to work like classical conditioning.

If you were wondering, that’s when a subject ties an apparently unconnected factor to a negative consequence. Like my smirking face when the water cooler mysteriously leaks all over your crotch just before yet another hemorrhoidectomy consult and even _that_ poor bastard moves to another surgeon since you apparently can’t control your bladder.

I did a pysch minor at college. This is the first time I’m feeling like I’m really getting value from it.

Carla has also bitched about him to me at length. I suggested she dump him, which she rejected, saying she loves the homophobic piece of shit and therefore just needs to intrinsically change him. I suggested withholding sex for a long period of time. She agreed.

She also then sidled up to me.

“Soooo…”

I tried to ignore it, knowing where she was going. Ignoring Carla doesn’t work.

“You and JD…?”

I sighed. “You know this, you _saw_ it. Jesus, you saw me…” I tried to think how to phrase it. “You saw me… comfort him.”

“You mean I saw you hug him? And kiss his hair?”

I grimaced and she smirked. “And that was just because he was feeling bad, right?”

“Shut up…”

“Aw. It’s cute.”

“It is _nahwt_ cute. It’s… uh… oh good Lord.” It kind of is cute. “Look, it’s… I just gave in to having to incessantly _deal_ with him. Why not have that in my personal life as well? There wasn’t any escape anyhow.”

“Oh, so JD made the moves, did he?”

No. Which she’d damn well know. She smirked again at my silence, clearly correctly reading it.

“You’ve got it bad, haven’t you? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like _what_?”

“I mean, yeah, you’re still bad tempered and being a jerk, but you’re sort of… softer around the edges.”

“Ugh.”

“I’m happy for you, Perry.”

“Be sad for me. Be commiserating. I’m going to go insane. Hell, I’ve probably gone insane to even entertain this.”

“Sure, whatever. Just… be good to him. But I don’t think you need telling that.”

She turned to leave and then glanced back. “Oh… and Perry?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I need to say it, but if you hurt him then you’re dead.”

I smirked. “Gandhi hurt him.”

“Yeah, and I’m hitting him where it most hurts – _he’s_ not getting any for a long time. I’m sure I can arrange something similar for you.”

I grinned. “I’m sure you could. Thanks, Carla.”

“No problem. I’m gonna go and eat non-diabetic brownies in front of him and say how good they are now.”

\- - - - -

“Honey, I’m hoooome.”

I start from where I’ve fallen asleep on the couch watching Sanford and Son. “Huh?”

Perry is apparently in an exceptionally good mood. He bounds over to the couch, kisses me hard and then grins at me.

“I said: honey, I’m home.”

“Barf,” I reply flatly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Fair enough. I was trying it out.”

“It’s revolting.”

“Alright.”

“I mean… I quite like sweetheart. That’s quite nice.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “That’s a shame, since I’m never calling you that again as you’ve pointed it out.”

I consider this. “I mean, I _love_ the girls’ names…”

“Nice try, Newberoo.”

He sits down on the couch next to me. “What’ve you been doing all day?”

I point at the TV. He glances at it and sighs. “You’re so sophisticated and cultured. Remind me how I managed to land such a catch.”

“From what I remember, you told me you wanted to manipulate me into having sex with you. And for some reason that turned me on.”

He grins. “Yeah it did.”

I sit up and straddle his lap, kissing him. His hands automatically move to rest on my ass. I break the kiss to grin at him.

“I’m pretty sure I have some good selling points, even if I do lie around watching old sitcoms all day. You’ve got your hands on one of them.”

“Hm. You have a point there, Laura.”

“Uh…” I hesitate, not wanting to ruin the mood but needing to know. “How… er, how was work?”

“By that do you mean ‘does everyone at work know I’m regularly being screwed by an _absolute_ sex God’?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“They don’t know, you’re fine.”

I try not to obviously react with relief. He’s looking amused and I think knows exactly how I’m feeling.

“Did you at least get something out of the freezer so we can eat tonight like I asked?”

I look at him blankly. “Huh?”

He pulls a face. “This morning, Newb. I said to get something out to defrost since there’s nothing fresh.”

“You said that?”

“… Yeah…”

I frown. I genuinely don’t remember that. “Were we having sex?”

“No, Newbie, why the hell would I say that when we were having sex?”

“I don’t know, just I don’t remember it. That’s usually pretty distracting for me.”

“Does this mean you didn’t?”

“Well, obviously. Oh, were you naked?”

He looks annoyed. “Well… yeah, I guess. I’d just come out the shower.”

“So you were naked and glisteny? And you were expecting me to pay attention to _anything_ you said?”

“Alright, point taken. Never ask you to do anything if not fully clothed.”

“Oh, no, _ask_ me to do things when you’re naked. I like that.” I grin at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re as filthy as ever. Anyway, I’m hungry, you little bastard. I’ve been at work saving lives. Mainly people with hemorrhoids or collapsed sphincter muscles, but goshdarn it, those people need help too.”

I look at him blankly. “Huh?”

“Don’t sweat it, Newb. But I’m going to go shower and I’d appreciate it if there was _something_ to eat when I’ve washed the scum of that hellhole off.”

“Are you against DoorDash?”

He stands up, dislodging me.

“Nope.”

“Thank God.”

\- - - - -

I intentionally come out of the shower naked and as ‘glisteny’ as possible. This is unfortunate, since the DoorDash guy arrives a minute later and it’s difficult to persuade Newbie to go answer the damn door and stop trying to make various amorous advances on me. I’m pretty sure he mutters “tease” as he shuffles to the door, trying to hide his very obvious erection.

He’s apparently decided to go for a more healthy option than his previous takeout attempt of a load of Chinese food and has ordered sushi. I stay wearing just the towel, which seems to have a significant affect on his hand-eye coordination using chopsticks.

“Newbie, are you honestly this controlled by your cock?”

He pulls a face at me, then accidentally stares at my abs and drops some sashimi. “You know I have impulse control issues.”

“I had noticed,” I comment, trying as best as I can not to put any inflection into this. Newbie judges himself enough for that, I don’t want to add to it. He oddly puritanical sometimes, for such a dirty little bastard. He seems to hold himself to standards he doesn’t expect from anyone else.

“Anyway, it’s just because you’re hot,” he mutters. “If I looked like you do then maybe you’d get it.”

“Newbie, don’t fish.”

“I’m not fishing.” He glances at the sushi. “Well, apart from this shrimp maki, amiright?”

He grins and then falters at the stony look I’m giving him. “Don’t make your godawful jokes at me when I’m trying to be serious.”

“You’re _always_ serious.”

“No I’m not. You know that Newb. And you _know_ I think you’re… at least passably attractive, alright? Don’t start on that.”

“But I don’t… have the same effect on you as you do on me. You just need to… _look_ at me in that way you have and I’m turned on.”

He really thinks he can’t do that back at me? Jesus, _remembering_ stuff the kid has done can have an incredibly significant physical impact on me.

“I’m pretty sure that’s more about your libido than anything else. And you can do that, Newb, you’re just too self-conscious to.”

Maybe I should try and give him compliments? It’s damn hard though, I’m terrible at that kind of thing and I’ve always got the impression he’d find it weird. It seems to work better – and have more impact – to force out that honesty every so often. Have it as something occasional. It makes it more meaningful.

God, I’m horrible. If I ever lose my defined abs then the kid’ll probably be out of this joint.

Admittedly, he has said that it’s not just a physical thing from his side. He generally acts like the only appealing thing about me is my body, only occasionally dropping that to confess he’s not actually that shallow. And the fact he does it rarely actually does make it a bit more… special, I guess.

So maybe we’re pretty well matched in that way.

It’s gone a bit serious and we’re both mainly staring at our food rather than acknowledging the spoken and unspoken implications of all this. I try to break it.

“Want me to pin you down and fuck you again tonight?”

He sniggers. “That was fun.”

“Yeah it was. I didn’t know you had that kink.”

“I don’t think I do.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “Pardon me, Newb, but you gave a damn good impression of it. Want me to tie you up this time?”

He flushes. “Okay, bad phrasing on my part. I _didn’t_ think I did. Until you were doing it.”

“You reacted pretty strongly to-“

“I don’t think I reacted to you pinning me down. I think that was… um…”

I grin. “What?”

“I think… that was to you saying you were proud of me.”

I consider this. “This puts a whole new disturbing edge to your mentor complex, you know that?”

“Yeah. I’m trying not to think about that. It’s putting some pretty horrific connotations on how keen I was to ace my core epidemiology module at college.”

\- - - - -

As ever, Perry’s all front. When we get into bed he doesn’t try to pin me down (which I was kind of hoping he’d do, I really did enjoy that, even though it was more of a happy coincidence finding that particular payoff rather than any plan). He just pulls me up against him and holds me for a while. This is particularly frustrating, since he’s not bothered to get dressed since his shower and him being naked has a pretty immediate physical impact on me.

I keep trying to initiate sex and he keeps stopping me while looking weirdly pleased with himself. I’m not really sure what the problem is.

I give him a grumpy look. “You can’t sit wearing just a towel all evening and then be such a tease.”

He smirks. “Maybe I’m trying to heighten the antici…” he trails off. I frown at him.

“You can’t complain about my genuinely funny maki joke and then do that. You’re just plagiarising The Rocky Horror Show.”

He frowns at me. “… pation.”

“Unless you’re going to wear suspenders and high heels then don’t do that at me.”

“Newbie, in the space of 24 hours you’ve referred to me wearing a figure-hugging red dress and suspenders and heels. I hate to break it to ya, but I’m not the boy for that sort of thing.”

“You’re the one who told me about Mrs Haberdasher.”

He flushes. “Mrs Haberdasher was just an attempt to get you to stop thinking of me in some weird, idealised way.”

“It was a pretty odd way to do that.”

It actually inspired a couple of jerk off sessions that I had to quite sternly stop myself from doing after that. It’s not a great thing to see your boss and remember masturbating after thinking about them fucking you wearing a dress.

He looks even more embarrassed. “Well, yeah… there was maybe a sexual element to it as well.”

Oh. Did he jerk off to that image to? We should explore that at some point. Mrs Haberdasher Rides Again.

“Newbie, are you daydreaming about that?”

“That’d be a great name for a porno…”

He gives me an annoyed look and I shake myself out of it. “What? You’re being all… pure.”

He snorts. “Hardly.”

“Let’s have seeeeexxx,” I whine at him.

“Newbie, that is _nahwt_ seductive.”

I consider what he said about me being able to have the same impact on him as he does on me. I think there was a hint in there that he does think I’m sexy, even if he seems to deny it most of the time. Which is weird, when I think about it, since he’s usually very enthusiastic when we’re actually having sex.

I could try and seduce him, I guess? My normal seduction attempts are basically ‘take off clothes’ or ‘give blowjob’. I mean, with guys. I always viewed that as what was most acceptable, since I got so weird about being romantic in any way with them. Yeah, I know I have issues.

To be honest, I’m not hugely seductive with girls either. I have a few looks which in my head are smouldering or alluring, but I think mainly look dorky or constipated. I do _try_ to be romantic with them though. Maybe I should with him?

This is all getting a bit meta. Anyway, I think romance is probably a pretty bad idea, one of the reasons we actually work together is that he’s pretty anti-romance and I’m too damaged to do it with him. I have a distinct impression that to _us_ we’re romantic, in the only ways we can be. It kinda… fits.

But I do know certain things that he likes. So… maybe I can sort of… seduce him? In a manly way. Obviously.

I huff softly. “Fine…”

Step 1 in seducing Perry Cox: Act like you don’t want to have sex with him.

I wriggle out of his grasp and hop out of bed. I’ve still got my T shirt and boxers on and ignore the way he’s looking over at me. “I guess it’s not that surprising. Y’know. With you being so _old_.”

Step 2 in seducing Perry Cox: Insult him.

He lifts his eyebrows. “Really, Newb? You’re trying that?”

“Trying what? I’m just saying… at your age I guess it’s pretty common to not be able to-“

“You know that’s not an issue, JD.”

I shrug. “Whatever you say.”

“What are you doing, anyway?”

“I was going to have a shower.”

“Why’re you-?”

I kick off my boxers, leaving my T shirt on and walk into the bathroom.

Step 3 in seducing Perry Cox: Don’t get completely naked, but show known appreciated areas. Perry likes my ass.

Also, step 4 in seducing Perry Cox: Get soapy.

As expected, I can hear him getting out of bed. I smirk to myself and turn the shower on, stripping and hurrying into the cubicle.

Shit, the water’s not warmed up. Hopefully he’s not going to get into the cubicle any time soon, as I’m pretty sure step 1 in turning off Perry Cox is him seeing my testicles trying to crawl back up into me.

Fortunately the water warms up pretty quickly and I shove my junk into it, resisting the urge to croon to Mr Peeps that it’s alright and he can come back out now. That’s definitely step 2 in turning off Perry Cox.

I hear the bathroom door open and close.

“Newbie, what are you doing?”

I’ve rapidly lathered a load of soap over myself and lean out of the cubicle to frown at him, making sure he can see I’m all naked and slippery. “I _said_ I’m having a shower. Can’t I have a shower in peace?”

Step 5 in seducing Perry Cox: Act like he mildly disgusts you.

He growls softly and I grin and get back under the water.

“Newbie, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were _trying_ to manipulate me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Newbie, _you_ don’t manipulate _me_.”

“Yeah, I know.” Like _you_ don’t snuggle, you hypocritical, maniacal, enormous bastard.

Step 6 in seducing Perry Cox: Let him catch you out manipulating him. For some odd reason that seems to turn him on.

“So stop trying, you little bastard.”

‘Little bastard’ appears to be climbing in popularity, even outranking the old classic of ‘random girls’ name’. ‘Newbie’ (or variations of) still seems to be his favorite.

I hope he was joking about retiring ‘sweetheart’ just because I’d pointed it out. I like that one.

“I’m not trying. I’m just showering. You’re the one hanging around out there. Like an aging, curly-haired-”

I hear him get into the shower behind me and there’s suddenly a lot of hot, hard flesh pressed against me. I pause.

“You were saying?” he growls into my ear.

“Aging… curly-haired… sex pest…” I mutter.

He drops a hand down to my erection and slides a finger along it. I gasp softly and tip my head back.

“Yeah? Aging, curly-haired sex pests seem to turn you on, sweetheart.”

Yay, it’s back. It’s been brought out of retirement like an ace sports player in an 80s movie.

I shiver against him and turn around to kiss him. He reverses abruptly. “Sorry. I forgot, you’re just trying to shower in peace, right?”

He’s suddenly gone and I’m feeling cold and horny and cheated.

“I hate you,” I mutter.

\- - - - -

As expected, Newbie emerges from the shower like a steamy, sexually frustrated bullet and hurls himself at me, where I’m lying in bed and pretending to read whilst anticipating his furious, horny onslaught.

Little bastard thought he could manipulate me. I’m going to tease him until he’s _begging_ for it.

Then I might say no. Just to see his expression.

He’s apparently given up any attempt at subtlety and is completely naked, landing heavily on me after propelling himself through the air. I grunt.

“Newb, you’re going to cause a load of condensation, at least dry off properly before-“

He kisses me hard, cutting off my off-handed comment with a clash of teeth. I smirk and lean back slightly, relaxing against the pillow as he scrambles on top of me, pinning me down and furiously dominating my mouth, tangling his tongue with mine, demanding and aggressive. I want to run my hands over him, stroking his hot, still slightly steaming, firm skin, to cup his ass, to run my hands along his thighs, but keep them still. The physical denial’s as torturous for me as it is for him, but for whatever reason I want to torture us both tonight. Mainly because he’s so damn responsive to not immediately getting whatever he wants. He’s not used to it and I think it actually affronts him.

And he _likes_ being teased. He won’t admit to it, but he’s so used to immediate gratification that drawing it out a bit seems to overwhelm him. And I want him overwhelmed tonight, I want him to come so hard he nearly passes out.

And… when he’s that close, when he’s that overwhelmed… that’s when he starts to blurt out the things he can’t bring himself to say normally. And I need to hear that right now, after all this shit.

So I lie passively under him as he angrily Frenches me and urgently presses his erection against my stomach. I can feel the hot, hard outline of him through the bedspread as he rocks against me, then makes a frustrated noise against my mouth when I don’t react.

I realize I’m being maybe _sli-hightly_ too much of a dick with this and catch him by the shoulder, abruptly rolling him over and dragging him under the covers. He immediately tangles his legs with mine and surges against me. He’s hot and his pale skin’s flushed and rosy from the warmth of the shower. I run my hands over him briefly, enjoying the velvety sensation of his skin stretched across hard, lean muscle.

I cup his cheek and gaze into his dilated pupils. He pants softly as he stares back at me.

He’s utterly gorgeous.

“I want you,” he breathes. I kiss him hard.

“I want you too, sweetheart.”

He’s stopped being so aggressive, now gently stroking along my arms and softly kissing me, feathering kisses over my lips.

When you show him some affection he returns it with a huge magnification. It’s utterly endearing, not that I’d usually admit it. Or that I’d admit to needing that right now, to seeing him affectionate and happy and only focused on the here and now.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s fun when he’s aggressive and full on and demanding some slightly twisted fantasy fulfilment (and God knows what going to come from that Mrs Haberdasher conversation). But I need him like this sometimes. Like this he’s… perfect.

“What’s up?” he asks me quietly and I realize I’ve been staring at him with what is likely a hugely soppy expression, gently stroking his cheek as I do.

I kiss him softly. “Nothing. I just like seeing you like this.”

He gives me a faux grumpy look. “What, so turned on I can’t walk straight because you’re such a tease?”

I grin. “Oh, you love it.”

I realize we’re both just lying on our sides stroking one another and grinning like morons. This is supposed to be sex, what the hell’s gotten into us both?

I press myself against him, feeling his skin flush against mine. He arches against me and gasps, trailing his hands down over my back and then kissing me hard. I stretch out and try to balance my weight so I’m not crushing him and cup the back of his head to get him to meet my gaze. His eyes are astounding when he’s like this, looking unusually dark and doe-eyed when he’s this turned on.

“What do you want to do, Newbie?”

He considers this for a moment. “I don’t want to do some stupid fantasy thing. I just want to have sex with you.”

“Yeah, I was getting that impression. How?”

He looks lost. “I… I don’t know, I just want… you.”

He’s so confident with those damn games he plays, but so anxious when he’s just being himself. It’s a weirdly vulnerable thing to see.

Hell, if he’s being vulnerable I guess it won’t kill me to follow suit. I gently kiss him. “Want me to make love to you?”

“Yeah,” he breathes and kisses me back.

He’s so responsive, arching and crying out over and over again as I carefully prepare him, sliding my fingers into him repeatedly. He’s tight and hot and slippery and I’m trying to ignore the throbbing of my cock, which is about as furious as he was at my initial apparent hesitation in doing this.

“Perry, _please_ …”

I kiss him again. “I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready, I’m ready, _I’m ready_ , _please_.”

His breath hitches as I rotate my fingers, catching his prostate. He flails his legs.

“You sure you don’t want me to just keep doing this?”

“I’m sure, _please_.”

I briefly kiss him. “So polite, sweetheart.”

I quickly slide a condom on and then enter him in one smooth thrust. He groans, arching his back and then wraps his legs around my waist. I lean forward, tipping him slightly, pressing his thighs back against his chest.

“You okay like this?”

“Yeah,” he pants, wrapping his arms over my shoulders.

It looks sort of painful, but he’s more flexible than I am. I thrust into him, pressing deep inside him and he lets out a guttural moan.

Even if it’s painful I’m not sure it’s a problem, neither of us are likely to last all that long after all this.

I start to thrust into him steadily, twisting my hips slightly as I do so to intensify the sensation. His eyes roll abruptly and he murmurs “oh God” to himself.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just… oh fuck, this is intense.”

I shift, moving to rest my weight onto my left forearm and use the other hand to start to jerk him off in time to my thrusts. His eyes open and he gives me a panicked look.

“No, Perry, if you do that I’m gonna-“

Precome drools abruptly over my fingers and he spasms. I grin at him. “That’s the idea.”

“But we’ve only just – oh, fuck, seriously Perry, this is gonna be real short if you keep doing that.”

He twitches, screwing his eyes shut as I continue to fist his cock and steadily thrust into him. He’s spasming hard inside as well; quite frankly I want him to come in what he seems to think is too quick a time frame as I’m definitely going to follow suit. If he doesn’t I’ll go first and then have to finish him off, something I try to avoid as it feels less mutual somehow.

“Ah… oh shit… ah… God, Perry, love this… love doing this with you… love… I love…” he grinds out and I increase the speed of my wrist and hips. A moment later I’m rewarded with him crying out what I’ve been waiting to hear and then doing a sort of full-body ululation, spasming hard and then coming with a wail, his teeth clashing as he does. I groan and come hard as he twitches and cries out underneath me, collapsing onto him, trying to keep some of my weight off of him as I tremble, waves of pleasure crashing over me as he writhes underneath me, still riding his orgasm out.

Then there’s just the sound of us both breathing heavily as I nuzzle against his forehead and whisper nonsense to him.

\- - - - -

I’m feeling spacey and shaky. He’s squishing me, muttering something into my hair and trembling about as much as I am.

“Heavy,” I grunt at him. He rolls off and I drag some more oxygen into my lungs.

“You alright?” he pants at me. I consider this for a moment.

“Squished,” I pant back.

“Sorry.”

“Sticky.”

“That’s on you.”

“Literally.”

I reach over to the bedside table and grab some tissues, mopping up the mess on my stomach and then sprawling back, closing my eyes.

“It’s on me too.”

I fumble for the box, my eyes still closed, and throw it at him. He grumbles to himself. A minute later he throws some damp tissues at me, which I growl at.

“What? I’m just returning it to the manufacturer.”

I throw the tissue off of me and roll onto my stomach. I feel him drag the bedspread up over me and turn off the lamp before slinging a leg over mine and resting his head against the back of my shoulder. He starts to stroke my back, a gentle massage along my spine.

“’s’nice.” I tell him.

He kisses between my shoulder blades and then informs me: “You don’t have a comfortable back. You’re too boney.”

“Sorry.”

Despite this, he keeps his head against my shoulder and interlocks his legs with mine, possessively throwing his arm around my waist. He awkwardly hikes the other arm onto the pillow in front of me and I reach up and pull it down to rest my cheek against his forearm, grasping his elbow with one hand and intertwining my fingers with his using the other. He makes a weird grumbling noise and squeezes my hand.

A groggy thought surfaces as my eyelids flutter heavily.

“Was Turk okay today?”

“Newbie, don’t talk about that asshole when we’ve just had sex and I’m half asleep.”

“But was he?”

“He didn’t say anything else, if that’s what you mean. And his breathing whistled, which I think is deserved.”

I didn’t really mean that, I meant emotionally. He’s messaged me once today, saying we should talk.

‘ _We should talk_ ’ isn’t a great sign in a relationship, but I don’t really know what it means in a friendship or a bromance or whatever. I’m trying not to read too much into it – either positively or negatively – as I honestly have no idea where Turk and I stand. I feel like I should be angry with him. And I am, what he said was genuinely horrific. But the idea of him not being in my life any more is so physically painful that it’s difficult to temper that with any real anger. I’m not good at anger anyway. I basically have manly, angry outbursts (not ‘hissy fits’, Perry) and then go back to the previous relationship. I don’t hold grudges, I’m not sure I actually can.

But if he says I have to _choose_ , if he’s… if he wants me to go back to pretending I’m something I’m not or says he can’t be my friend if I’m with Perry… well, I guess that answers it. Because I like who I am when I’m not pretending. It’s taken a lot of effort, but I _do_.

And I more than like Perry.

So I guess if he does say that then Perry’s right about him. What sort of friend would want you to deny a whole part of yourself or not be with someone who makes you feel like… like _this_?

I squeeze his hand and he sleepily grumbles something and kisses my hair.

I fall asleep tangled up with him and feeling weirdly content.

\- - - - -

I was nervous about being back at Sacred Heart, but it seems like Perry was right; no one seems to be acting any different and so presumably Turk and Carla haven’t mentioned anything. Thank God. I really don’t think I can cope with any additional emotional fallout right now.

Someone has noticed something though, unfortunately.

“Hey, JD, what’s going on with Turk?”

“Huh?” It’s a bit of a lame pretence that I didn’t hear what Elliot just said, but I need to buy some time to think of an answer. I’m not sure ‘he found out Doctor Cox and I are boning’ is going to go down very well with her.

“Turk. He’s all weird, what’s up?”

“Oh. I… uh, I dunno. I guess he’s just stressed out about stuff.”

“He hasn’t _told_ you? Don’t you guys share, like, everything?”

I shrug, not meeting her eyes. “I’ve not seen him much recently.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve been with that ‘mystery girl’, right?”

I groan. “Please, Elliot, don’t start that. There’s not a mystery girl. There’s no girl.”

There’s a loaded pause and I glance over at her. She’s looking thoughtful.

“There’s something going on with you though? You’re acting like-“

“I’m not acting like anything. Anyway, I have to go get these lipid panels tested, laters.”

I practically run out. I’m not sure whether I’m more terrified that Elliot might figure something out – she knows me well enough to know that I’m involved in _something_ if I’m acting the way I am currently – or that my saying that there isn’t a girl will imply we should pick up where we left off on our self-destructive attempts at a relationship.

I don’t think I’m being cocky or anything with that, just she tends to do it when I’m not in a great place to reciprocate, which would _so_ be now. And knowing me I’d awkwardly not be able to say no from a combination of fear of her finding out about Perry and just not wanting to hurt her feelings. It sounds like a plot from a really shitty sitcom, albeit the ending would likely involve us sleeping together, me hating myself intensely and then Perry violently murdering us. And then everyone else.

I stare at the lipid panels morosely. I now feel guilty for ‘cheating’ on Perry in a miserable fantasy. Why would I even sleep with Elliot in that scenario, the subtext is pretty clearly that I don’t want to? I’m even a pants-less pushover in my own mind.

I also don’t actually know where Perry and I stand on that shit. We’ve not discussed being ‘exclusive’, but… I’m not completely obtuse, despite what he says. Doing anything like that is out of the question, he’d go berserk.

And why am I even thinking this? I don’t _want_ to. Yeah, I find other people hot, but there’s no desire to do anything about that. I much prefer him.

I pass the lipid panels to Franklyn, who gives me a weird look.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I shrug. “Nothing. Just… y’know, Mondays.”

“It’s Thursday.”

Great, now Franklyn thinks I’m a moron.

\- - - - -

I manage to avoid pretty much everyone – Carla tries to catch me on a couple occasions, but I dodge her – through the morning. I’m still in a weird mood. It’s odd, I felt really good last night but apparently I got out the wrong side of the bed this morning or something.

It’s kinda hard to get out of the _right_ side of the bed, Perry’s in the way.

I’m enjoying staying at his, but it isn’t home. For one thing, it’s really impersonal. And for another thing, he’s somehow in the way all the time. He’s a big guy, but he takes up even more space than he seems like he should. There’s just… _Coxishness_ all over the place.

There isn’t today though, I’ve barely seen him. He still looked weirdly smug and self-congratulatory this morning. Okay, _more_ weirdly smug and self-congratulatory than normal. I started earlier than he did, but I’d expect to have seen him more than I have.

I wonder if he knows I mentally cheated on him (whilst not wanting to cheat on him and actively being upset by the idea) and so is stewing somewhere in rage?

I also feel like shit because Turk’s whole ‘we need to talk’ thing is hanging over my head. I’ve not seen him either, come to think of it. I think he’s on shift today.

I prod my salad around my plate and sigh to myself.

“Dude, you _have_ to get him to lay off.”

I jump. I’ve apparently summoned Turk by thinking about him. I glance up to see him collapsed into the chair opposite me.

“Huh? Why don’t you have any lunch?”

Considering the last time we saw each other I was about two seconds away from tears and he’d just gotten punched in the face, it’s a strangely normal interaction.

He gives me a stressed look. “If I get lunch then there’ll be something _awful_ in it.”

“The cafeteria isn’t _that_ bad.”

“No, man. Like, there’ll be… medical waste in my potatoes. Or used syringes in the carrots.”

I look at him blankly. “Why? Has Kelso stopped paying that refuse company to-?”

“No, JD. It’s _him_. You need to get him to stop it, I’m going insane.”

He sounds weirdly like me when the Janitor’s got a particularly horrendous run on me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

After grabbing meatloaf for Turk and dodging the Brain Trust’s attempt to trip me over (lame, even by their standards), I get back to the table and shove the tray over to him. He stares at it suspiciously.

“Did you say it was for me?”

“No.”

“And it stayed in your sight?”

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong?”

He groans. “Thanks VB. I tell you, I can’t deal with this any more.”

“With _what_? Seriously, Turk, what the hell’s going on?”

He looks up at me and blinks, confused. Then his expression clears. “You don’t know?”

“Know _what_?”

“I _knew_ you wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t let him do this.”

I’ve said ‘what’ so many times I think I’m possibly accidentally speaking another language. I just stare at him pointedly. He notices and rolls his eyes.

“ _Cox_.”

I correlate Turk’s look of utter exhaustion and misery with Perry’s recent behavior and how pleased he’s been with himself. “Oh.”

“’Oh’ is right, dude.”

I sigh. “What’s he done?”

“What _hasn’t_ he done? I mean… I think some of it’s just coincidence, but it’s like he’s put some sort of voodoo bullshit _curse_ on me, man. All of my shifts have gone to hell. He’s definitely gotten all my surgical consults moved to The Todd and somehow arranged for me to only have procedures related to butts-“

He pauses when he notices me sniggering.

“It’s not funny, JD.”

“Sorry. Doctor Butt.”

“Shut up, dude. Doctor Wen keeps making little snide comments about something, which I think he’s done. _Everything_ keeps leaking on me somehow. And he keeps… just appearing. Like, everywhere. All the time. Like some… massive, vengeance-seeking _bat_ in a white coat. And grinning. You know that weird grin he has, that looks like something out of a psychological study from a Victorian sanatorium?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m getting _real_ familiar with that.”

“I think it’s something to do with his eyes. He does this thing where there’s nothing technically wrong with the smile, but he has crazy eyes. It’s disconcerting.”

“Yeah, _that_. He keeps doing that. And I keep finding puke in my locker.”

“Puke?”

“Yeah, like actual buckets of puke. And… other bodily fluids. Every time I open my damn locker. It’s like a real grizzly version of ‘Let’s Make a Deal’.”

“And behind door number four… a bucket of vomit.”

“Exactly. Dude, I’m losing it. I know what I said was utterly shitty of me and I absolutely deserved the punch in the face and everything, but _please_ , if you have _any_ pity on me then call him off.”

I blink and try not to let him see how hurt I’m feeling. “Did you only say we had to talk because he was doing that?”

“No. JD, I sent that message to you yesterday before my shift even started. I felt like crap for doing that – and even if I hadn’t, Carla damn well would have made sure I did, he’s got to her too or maybe she just hates me now – and I wanted to talk to you.”

I prod my salad around again and hear him sigh.

“Look, man… I’m… I’m sorry.”

I glance up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… it was a surprise. I mean, _one hell_ of a surprise. And that it was with a guy – and him, of all guys. It just threw me.”

“I figured.”

“But that doesn’t excuse the shit I said. I really am sorry. It just brought all that college shit back and-“

I frown. “What college shit?”

He looks awkward. “Some of the guys used to say stuff about you and… I dunno, I felt like they were saying I was into that stuff too, since we roomed together and were so close.”

I snort. He looks awkward. “Yeah, I know, it’s lame. I shouldn’t care if people think that, but you know it makes me uncomfortable. But… I don’t want to be that guy. You’re my best friend, man. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and it… it shouldn’t matter, y’know?”

“But it does?”

“It does… in a way. But that’s my problem and I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have said that. I have… _concerns_ about you and him, but I should have said that. That you’re too good for him. Not gone on some awful tirade that made me sound like the biggest asshole on the whole damn planet. I guess him arranging all that butt surgery was his way of pointing that out.”

“I’m _not_ too good for him. It’s the opposite.”

“Oh, hell no. Don’t even _go_ there, man. If you’re somehow into angry, insane guys then he’s damn well lucked out and he knows it.”

I blink. Turk actually sounds like he means that. I feel like I’ve eaten a balloon or something, a spreading lightness inside me that’s pushing out the miserable, heavy feeling that’s been settled in my lower gut for the last few days.

“Who said that shit about me at college?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Who?”

He sighs. “Mainly Dave. You remember Dave?”

“Yeah. I guess him threatening to tell you unless I… um…”

Turk’s staring at me. “Seriously?”

I flush. “Yeah, he was… anyway, look, that doesn’t matter-“

“Like hell it doesn’t! Why the hell did you let him do that? Would it really have been so bad if I’d have found out that-?”

He freezes and I sigh. “Yeah, I pretty much always thought you’d kinda react that way.”

“I’m sorry, man. I’ve been a lousy friend.”

I give him a tired smile. “I miss you. Even if you are a lousy friend.”

He grins back at me. “I miss you too, dude. Reckon the ‘guy love’ is salvageable?”

“It’s guy love… between… two guys.” I grin back at him, knowing the relief is showing, knowing that he’s intentionally picked the guy love thing to show he doesn’t want anything to change. That he’s accepting that part of me, even if it _does_ make him uncomfortable.

“Just don’t tell me about the sex, alright? And that’s nothing about it being between two guys, that’s _entirely_ about it being with him.”

“Yeah, I can see why you might-“

There’s a sudden piercing whistle that makes both of us jump, then a clatter next to me as Perry crashes into the chair next to mine, leans an elbow slightly back on the chair so he’s _nearly_ touching my shoulder and glowers at Turk.

“No assholes in the cafeteria. It’s unhygienic. Scram _now_ , Gandhi, you don’t get to say whatever poisonous bullshit to him and-“

Turk throws me a helpless look, so I intervene.

“Have you been putting buckets of vomit in Turk’s locker?”

He pauses and then gives me a confused look. “What?”

“Buckets of puke. Turk’s locker?”

“No.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see the Janitor stand up, salute Perry and then walk out the cafeteria. I give him an exhausted look. “You got the _Janitor_ to?”

He’s staring after the Janitor now. “No. I specifically told him not to help, actually.”

“Specifically telling him not to do something is _telling him to do something_.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Newb. He deserves it.”

“And you’ve been changing his shifts? And getting all his patients to go to The Todd? And giving him… butt surgery?”

“And telling Carla to not let me have anything,” Turk adds.

“She came to that conclusion all on her own, Gandhi.”

“But you did the other stuff?” I ask. He gives me an annoyed look.

“He deserved it and-“

“ _Perry_.”

He slumps in his chair. “You were upset. Getting Gandhi a few night shifts and those surgeries was minor compared to-“

“Tormenting my best friend doesn’t make me feel any better,” I snap at him.

“Yeah, well it made _me_ feel better, Newbie. I felt like shit, you were damn well _crying_ and I couldn’t do anything.”

“In a manly, confident way,” I hurriedly add to Turk. Perry snorts next to me and I kick him under the table.

“Look, dude, I’ve apologised to him. I was _going_ to apologise to him before all this shit. I’m damn well aware how much of a shitty friend I’ve been and I’m working on it, alright? You didn’t… didn’t need to make me Doctor Butt to point that out.”

Perry makes an aggrieved noise, then rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll stop. I’m gonna go punch all this frustration out at the gym…”

He slopes off and Turk turns to me with an enormous grin on his face. “Oh my _God_. You _totally_ have him under your thumb.”

I grin. “I know. It’s awesome, right?”

\- - - - -

“Did you have to do that _in front_ of Gandhi?” I demand.

“Oh my God, why are you asking this _now_?”

“Because I’m affronted and you’re trapped.”

He squirms underneath me. “You could have asked this before the sex. Now I feel ambushed and you’re killing my afterglow.”

“Get used to it.”

I stop supporting any of my weight and he makes an odd wheezing sound in response. I grudgingly move off of him.

“I didn’t _do_ anything, I was just reacting to your insanity.”

I slump onto my back. “He _deserved_ it.”

He sighs and then I feel him lie against my side. “I know you were trying to be… nice. In your own, very special and very insane way.”

“He upset you,” I mutter darkly. Newbie pauses, then quietly speaks:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Never do it again, alright? But thank you. I know your teeny-tiny heart was in the right place.”

He kisses my temple gently. I sigh and then blurt out: “It was partially because he’d set you back, alright? It _really_ pissed me off that he did that.”

“I know. Like I said, I sort of know what you were doing. Just… I don’t know, talk to me about it before you start anything like that again. Otherwise you’re basically the Janitor. I can’t do this if you’re basically the Janitor, it’s too disturbing.”

“Okay Newbie.”

He sits up and stretches. “I’m gonna go get some water. You want some?”

“Sure.”

He hops out of bed and wanders out of the bedroom, presumably to the kitchen. I call after him: “Are you _planning_ on moving back to your own apartment?”

“Yeah…” floats back. “Just I wanted to give them some space to clear the air and-“

He stops abruptly. I wait for a second, expecting him to have stubbed his toe or something and that I’m going to hear an angry Newbie tirade in a moment.

Nothing happens.

I frown. “What? Have you forgotten why you want them to clear the air? I know you go a bit spacey after sex Newbie, but seriously…”

Still nothing and I feel a stab of worry. What if all the recent bullshit has stressed him out so much he’s gone into cardiac arrest? I do keep having pretty energetic sex with him and he does seem to otherwise have the exercise regimen of an elderly lady. With bedsores. Maybe it’s all got too much for his system?

I quickly pull on a robe as I stalk out of the bedroom, relieved to see Newbie standing in the kitchen and not sprawled on the floor and requiring defibrillation. He’s weirdly standing naked with the water glass clutched in front of him, apparently trying to hide behind it, a look of utter horror on his face as he stares into the darkened corner of the room.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

He doesn’t move and I sigh, walking over to shake him. Then freeze and make exactly the same expression as him when I see what he’s staring at.

“Oh, Perry. Isn’t _this_ interesting?”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Jordan,” I reply heavily.

Oh _shit_.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, you all seemed to like that last cliffhanger ending so much... ;)
> 
> Incidentally, writing Perry be as evil as he possibly could be was genuinely a huge amount of fun for me. I'm really enjoying this series, as I feel the guys are allowed to be a bit 'sillier' in them than they usually can be in my other works (arguably MUT JD and Perry sometimes do this, but then they both end up depressed). And yeah, I imagined that Perry absently saying that a few people at Sacred Heart knowing he was bi (in the first work) would include Doctor Wen. I like their weird little friendship vibe.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I was really pleased in my enormous, boring run of DIY and adulting to get comments saying people were still reading my stuff, it really spurred me on to finish all that tedious stuff and get writing again. So thanks!
> 
> I think there's one more in the My Hypocritical Hippocrates series - it should come a bit quicker than My Diabolical Vendetta :)


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